


Plum In Plain Sight

by merciki



Category: In Plain Sight, Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merciki/pseuds/merciki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plot is simple: what if Stephanie was taken into Witness Protection by my favorite couple of Marshals, Mary Shannon and Marshall Mann ? Click to find out !</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hit the Road, Steph

The black SUV was cruising through Ohio's landscape. Autumn had claimed its dues, and a beautiful yellow and brown carpet of leaves was coating the shoulder of the I-70.

"Can you tell me where we're going?" the young woman asked. "I mean, you people come out of the woodwork, tell me I'm not allowed to talk to anyone and we have to leave immediately, but I'd like to know at least where we're headed. I haven't packed any boots, so it better not be Maine or Alaska!"

The partners in the front of the SUV stayed silent. Stephanie caught a quick glimpse of the piercing blue eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror, before he returned his attention to the road.

"Definitely not Alaska. Nor Maine. See, Mary doesn't like the cold."

"Marshall, we're not playing twenty questions again!" the blonde woman warned.

"You mean, I have twenty questions to find out where we are going?" Steph interrupted, full of hope.

"Au contraire, mon amie, sounds like Miss Plum here it is quite eager to play." The blue eyes, twinkling with mirth, flashed in the rearview mirror again. "Yes, you have twenty questions to find out where we're heading. But I can only answer 'yes' or 'no'. And you can't ask questions like "Are we heading to New Jersey or New York, okay? Oh, and keep in mind, Mary will do everything she can to distract you."

"You make me out to be the bad cop, Marshall, and I swear to God, you'll regret it."

"Oh, I'm so scared, Mare. Stephanie, you ready?"

"Are you two always like that?"

"No, today Mary is in a very good mood, so we're lucky." The man said, as his partner poked him in the arm. "Was that supposed to hurt?" he asked, turning to her with a huge grin on his face.

Stephanie slumped back in the seat, leaving her protectors to bicker over the female marshal's ability to inflict pain on her partner, as she struggled with the fear she'd thought. The fear that she thought that she had come to grips with, seized her body once again. What if she never got to see her friends and family again? What would happen to Rex now that she was gone? Would Joe give up on her easily? Would Ranger? Or would they look for her? And what about Connie and Lula? Would she ever see any of them again?

At the thought of her friends, Steph felt the tears sting her eyes. How would she live without them?

"I want to go home! I don't want to go where you're taking me!" Steph reached for the door handle, trying to open it.

"She tried the door?" The man's voice echoed inside the truck.

"Uh-huh. They always do, at some point. Thought she'd wait until we reach Indianapolis, though." Mary answered.

"Indianapolis? Nah, wrong. She's much more of an Ohio girl."

"I'm right here! And you heard me! I wanna to go home!"

Stephanie heard a heavy sigh from the front of the SUV. "Your turn or mine?"

"I'm driving, Mare, so all yours."

"Crap. I knew I shouldn't have let you drive. Anyway." The blonde woman turned to Stephanie, taking off her aviator sunglasses, before folding up the map she was holding. "Listen, little Miss Sunshine. You go back to Trenton, you're dead. There is no way the Family will let you live after what you've witnessed. So we can turn the car around, head back to Jersey, and you'll be pushing daisies in no time. Got it?"

"I know! But it's not fair!"

"Newsflash, Miss Jersey. Life isn't fair." Mary slid her sunglasses back on, and turned around to face the road.

"St. Louis," Marshall said, without taking his eyes from the road.

"Nope. Chicago."

"You up for a bet?"

Stephanie laid her head back on the headrest and sighed. For the first time, but not the last, she wished she hadn't seen Seppe Farlicorne murder that poor woman.

-o-o-

Ranger walked into the control room, on the fifth floor of his Haywood building.

"Status on Stephanie. Now."

Hal was monitoring the screens. He hit a few keys, and a dot appeared on the map of Trenton on the main screen. Ranger moved closer to the screen, and Hal zoomed in on the dot, to a back alley next to Stark Street.

"Babe..." Ranger whispered. What in God's name are you doing on Stark Street, alone?

"Get me the police scanner. Which tracker is it?"

"Her car. And her bag's there too."

The speakers in the control room came to life and Ranger turned his head slightly, to hear someone from the TPD through the static, "...C.S.I. is done with the crime scene. Get this car outa here. Morelli? Call up the Plums; they can pick up her personal effects..."

"Steph's location?" Ranger's voice was a grumble, only heard by his second in command, Tank, who wasn't very eager to tell his boss that this time they had no idea where Bombshell was.

"Off the grid. She's not in the hospital, or at the TPD, or at her parents. We're still looking."

Ranger paced around the office, turning to look at Hector, leaning against the doorframe.

"El otro GPS." Hector nodded slightly and went to the console, pushing a few keys. "The other GPS"

"Estephania esta ahí."Another dot had appeared on the map, far west from Trenton. "Stephanie is over there."

-o-o-

The night had fallen, when the SUV exited off the highway, and headed for the suburbs of Indianapolis. The blonde marshal left the vehicle, while her partner was scanning their surroundings, taking in the motel building and the street lights along the road, stretching for a few miles into the darkness.

"Can I get out now? I need to pee!" Steph asked, wanting to escape the confines of the truck she'd been in for hours.

"No. We'll wait until Marshal Shepperd returns and checks out the rooms."

"But I need to go!" Stephanie whined.

Marshall turned his head a bit, smiling.

"If you can keep a secret, I need to go too… But first, Mary has to check if the rooms are adjacent, and if everything looks okay. It won't be much longer, I promise."

"But nobody followed us! Nobody knows where we are! I heard that you picked this motel randomly!"

"So we did. But standard protocol section 17.1b calls for, …"

"Not the protocol, Jesus, Marshall, don't start.' Mary cut him off, before turning to Steph. 'See what you did ? We'll never hear the end of it now, and we still have a long way to go.' She sighed. 'Let's get you out of this truck." The door on the passenger's side was opened, and Marshal Shepperd unlocked the rear doors. Steph was out of the SUV in a flash, rushing toward the Double Deck Inn. They quickly made it inside, where Steph hurried to the bathroom.

The two marshals stared at each other, and Mary said, "Yours, definitely yours."

"Come on, Mare, she's a Jersey girl, you'd know how to handle her best!"

"I'll be sure to bring that up the next time a horse comes into the WitSec!"

"Har, har, har, you're hilarious. Can you just take her?" Marshall said, thinking that there was something about Stephanie Plum that made him uncomfortable.

"Translation, Little Miss Perfect wouldn't like to see her future husband hanging out with a beautiful brunette... "Mary said with a smirk and an evil gleam in her eyes. "I'll take her, if you take Barry."

"Barry?! Come on, not Barry. I'll take Steve, but not Barry. And for the record, Abigail's got nothing to do with this."

"Suure, it's got nothing to do with your fiancée. It's Barry or Miss Jersey. The choice is yours, Doofus."

Marshall's face went blank as he was weighing his options. Either Barry "Big Mouth" Enderson, or Miss Jersey… and given Stephanie Plum's history and the familiarity she had with the TPD, it was only a matter of time before she ended up at APD. And sure as hell, Abigail Chafee, Marshall's fiancée, wouldn't be too happy finding out that he was her emergency contact. She had told him several times that she understood what his job entailed, but couldn't help sighing or making comments every time one of Marshall's 'friends' needed help.

He sighed, admitting defeat. "I'll take Barry. But you have to promise me you'll come along to every witness visit."

"Little Marshall's afraid of Big Barry?"

"Of Barry, no. Of his roaming hands, maybe."

Barry Enderson was known within the Albuquerque Witsec office to have a soft spot for everybody in the department, but for Marshal Marshall Mann in particular. Which is why he had been placed in the program as Mary's witness.

"I'll bet. You call Stan, and I'll take care of Miss Plum here," Mary said, as she heard the sound of the flush. At her partner's nod, she closed the door, separating the two adjacent rooms, before turning to wait for Stephanie to emerge from the bathroom.

-o-o-

This isn't possible, how can I be in such a mess? I mean, I've been in trouble before, but now… Heading to God knows where, with complete strangers, just because once again I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. And she was about to start a new life far away from Jersey, without being able to contact anybody in her family or friends. This all seemed so – weird, like a scene from a bad mob movie...

There must be another solution... maybe if I tell them I saw nothing, they will let me go back? Because honestly, I can't even be sure it was Giuseppe, she thought. Well, okay, the man had the same scar on the face, right under the eye, but this can happen, and be a coincidence? And maybe, the woman is not really dead-dead. Maybe she's just hurt and will testify, so they won't need me?

She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling better that, maybe, there was an escape to this craptastic situation. She fluffed her hair a bit, mustering up her courage and walked out of the bathroom, ready to face the two marshals.

The woman, Marshal Shepperd or something, was sitting on the full size bed, next to the window and the door, with her laptop. Stephanie caught sight of the Glock, lying within the marshal's reach, on the nightstand.

"I think all this is a huge misunderstanding, Marshal Shepperd," Steph started. The woman barely looked up from the screen, before going back to reading whatever was on it.

"I mean, are we sure that the woman is really dead? Because if she's at the hospital and then she can testify, I can go back to Trenton. Or it wasn't really Farlicorne, even though, I agree, his scar is uncommon, but it could have been anybody. Maybe someone else in Trenton has the same, who knows? And I can always say I didn't recognize him, so I'll be safe! And tomorrow we can be on the road back to Jersey! What do you think of that?"

Mary looked Stephanie up and down, planted in the middle of this cheap motel room, and then smirked, before yelling, "Marshall, get over here! I won!"

A moment later, the other marshal opened the door separating the two rooms and walked in. "What happened?"

"She wants to go back to Jersey, because the woman might not really be dead, and there might be someone else, who has the same scar as Farlicorne. I won. And we're not even in Chicago yet."

"No, you lost, Mare. You said 'Chicago.' And we're still in Indie. So, neither of us wins."

Stephanie looked at the two marshals in front of her, who didn't seem to understand what she was telling them. "Did you hear me? I said I could go back to Trenton!"

She saw the partners exchange a look, and the man finally said, leaning his left shoulder against the doorframe, "Your witness, Mare..."

Mary turned to Stephanie, setting the laptop carefully next to her on the bed.

"Okay. I'll do this one more time. Catherine Bailey was shot seven times. One bullet went through her skull. I'm no medical examiner, but usually when the victim's missing a face, it means the brain is dead. And if that wasn't enough, the bullet to her heart would have done the trick. So we can say that, yes, she is most definitely dead. Add to that what I just read in the autopsy report, and I can tell you that she won't be going to the farmer's market next Sunday. And there is no chance in hell that she'll testify." As soon as she finished her diatribe, she turned the laptop around so Stephanie could see the images that she'd never forget for the rest of her life. A body lying on concrete, in a pool of blood, and a bloody mess where a woman's face should have been, leaving no doubt that Catherine was, indeed, dead.

"And as for Mr. Farlicorne, as you identified him straight away to officer Gazzara or whatever, and you told him, and I quote 'I'm sure it's Giuseppe. I saw him under the street lamp.' It leaves very little doubt as whether or not you'll survive if you go back to Trenton. Now if we're done, can we order a pizza?"

"This is true, then…" Stephanie's blue eyes filled with tears. "I'm never going back to my family…"

Mary rose from the bed and approached the younger woman. "You don't know that. I don't know that. But if not, we'll find a way to let your family know you're okay. You can send letters through the Marshals Service, and we'll make sure they get to your family. It will be fine, Stephanie, we know what we're doing. You'll be okay."

"I'm so scared…" And Stephanie went into Mary's arms, crying for the fear she felt inside.

-o-o-

Meanwhile, a private jet that taxied down the runway of the Trenton Mercer airport, was cleared for the takeoff.


	2. So Close

Mary was awakened by the annoying sound of Marshall's phone- the Starwars theme- from the adjacent room. Years of transporting witnesses all over the country had taught her to sleep half awoken and she knew something was wrong as soon as she heard the phone. She rose from her bed, grabbed her Glock and went straight to the windows, scrutinizing the surroundings. There was no movement outside, but she maintained a firm grip on her weapon. She scanned the parking lot, looking for cars with headlights on. The reception area was quiet too, nothing outside was moving but the trees. The adjoining door opened, and Marshall signaled her to come in before he started whispering:

"Stan called. The marshals in Jersey have just reported that a private jet took off from Trenton airport, with a flight plan heading for Indianapolis. She has a GPS somewhere on her."

Mary nodded her agreement. "Take care of the car, I'll take care of her. Meet you outside in ten."

She came back to the room she shared with Stephanie Plum, and carefully picked up a bag of clothes the witness had brought with her. Inside, between a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt with a Rangeman logo, Mary found a picture of the family of the young brunette. She emptied the contents of the bag onto the bed, not caring in the slightest about waking Stephanie up.

"What are you doing with my clothes?" Steph asked, eyes still full of sleep.

"Where is it? Where did you put it?"

"Where is what? What is going on?"

Mary turned to face Stephanie.

"You listen to me very carefully, miss Plum. We're here to assure your safety, not to let you play games. We told you that you couldn't bring anything linking you to your family," the marshal said, picking up the picture that was lying on the coverlet, "friends, or former coworkers." She went on, throwing the Rangeman shirt in Steph's face. "Now, if you don't want to comply with the rules, that's your problem, but as you're dragging me and my partner in with you, it becomes my problem. Tell me where the GPS is, now, or I swear to God, I'll tie you to the headboard of this bed, and let you discover who is after you!"

"Someone is after me? Who? What GPS? I mean, Ranger usually has a GPS tracker on my car and in my purse, but I didn't take either. So…" Steph looked genuinely surprised.

"Your boyfriend puts a GPS in your purse and on your car? What a pervert!" Mary sneered. "Who does that?"

"He's not my boyfriend! He's Ranger... it's complicated. You wouldn't understand…"

"Try me. Where could he have planted a GPS? What do you take everywhere that he could be sure about?"

"I don't know, really! The only thing I could have taken is Rex, but he's at my parents now." Mary raised an eyebrow at the mention of the name – it didn't appear in Stephanie's file as a relative or a sibling.

"My hamster" Stephanie explained. "I just took some clothes and toiletries. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Well, if it's not in your clothes, it's in the bathroom. So grab your suitcase, we're leaving now."

"But Ranger is a good guy, he'll help us!"

"Stephanie, a plane took off from the airport with a flight plan to Indianapolis. We don't know who's aboard, and can't take any chances. We're leaving now. Marshall's waiting in the car." Mary hurriedly closed the zipper of Steph's bag, while the young woman was getting dressed.

"I'm not taking anything from the bathroom? I can't go outside without make-up".

Mary sighed. "Trust me, we have make-up in the Southwest. Come on. We have to go, now."

As soon as Mary opened the door of the motel room, she saw the SUV park in front of them, and herded Steph inside, before turning and jogging around the truck to the driver's seat, while Marshall took shotgun. No words were exchanged as Mary eased the truck from the parking lot.

-o-o-

"Numero 51 y 52" Hector said, closing his laptop, and putting on his vest. "Rooms 51 and 52"

"Move in," Ranger said, checking his weapon.

The door of the minivan opened quietly, and five men silently fanned out, their suede shoes hitting the pavement. Huddling at the doors to the adjacent rooms, they checked for lights or sounds that would be out of place. At the sign from Tank(?), they lowered their night vision goggles, and waited for the locks to be opened by two pairs of very gifted hands.

Ranger nodded slightly, and the doors to the rooms were opened at the same time, weapons were drawn and the five men slipped inside. Moving slowly to one of the beds, a man in black pulled the coverts off the bed, before heading to the bathroom, checking it, and then made his way to the door.

In the adjacent room, another man in black saw that the room had been abandoned.

In the bathroom, Ranger stood, holding Steph's mascara tube with the embedded GPS tracker inside.

-o-o-

"So, will you tell me now why you don't want to have Miss Jersey as your witness?" asked Mary, after checking if Stephanie was still in the conference room with the ADA. "Abigail's being jealous?"

They had come back two hours ago and were waiting for the assistant district attorney to finish his review of the case, before going through the process of the MOU. Mary was searching for a place in their usual apartment complexes, eyes locked on the computer screen.

"No, not really. This isn't really about Abby." Marshall sighed. "It was before you came to Albuquerque, when I was partnered with Keith. There was this witness, a high maintenance woman I had to take care of, and ,well, she was really… intrusive. She kept calling me at all hours of the day for nothing, and then found out where I lived, after following me one evening. She had to be relocated, and I moved out. Had to change my alias too, I was Marshall Manners back then."

Marshall settled in his favorite chair next to Mary's desk. She turned her attention from the screen to stare at him, stunned.

"You're kidding me, right? A witness followed you home and you didn't notice? You skipped the driving test or what?"

"What's more surprising is that you didn't fail it, Mare, given your driving record."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with the way I drive, jackass." Mary scoffed. "Is this the only reason why you don't want to take care of Miss Plum there?"

"Well, that, and Abs might be a bit jealous, even though she suspects what I do…"

"Aha! I knew it! I was right! Nancy Drew's jealous!"

"I'm around a lot of women every day and she'd rather there would be more men… But, come on, Mare, wouldn't you feel the same in her place?"

Mary looked straight into Marshall's eyes and answered without hesitation.

"You don't have a cheating bone in your body, Doofus. You're a commitmentphile. It's pathetic really. So nope, I wouldn't be jealous."

"Inspectors? You ready?" Stan's voice came from the framing of the conference room.

"Coming, darling," Mary grabbed the file she was working on, and followed her partner into the conference room.

-o-o-

Stephanie was feeling completely lost. She no longer was Stephanie Michelle Plum, but Stephanie Vaughn living in the old town of Albuquerque. Everything was so different there from New Jersey. The sky was of the purest blue, almost matching her eyes. And from every turn of a street, she could see the desert was nearby.

"It's the superior air quality. No pollution here," said Marshall.

"I said it out loud, didn't I?" Steph sighed at the nod of the marshal.

"I hope you don't do that too often, it can cause… problems in your current situation."

"Well, it's not that unusual for me…"

"You'll have to be careful then. " Mary said, handing Stephanie a smartphone. " I'm one on your speed dial, and Marshall is two. In case you can't reach us, you have Stan's and Delia's numbers programmed into the phone too." She looked around the room, before continuing, "We'll be back tomorrow morning, to get you started in your job search, and give you a complete tour of the town, so you can spot the important places. We'll get you a car, too. Any preference? Make? Model?"

Stephanie smiled at the thought of the list of cars she had had in the previous years.

"One that runs would do… What kind of job will I be looking for?"

"Nothing similar to what you used to be. You've got until tomorrow morning to figure out your options… We'll be there around nine. There's food in the fridge, and the cable is on. "

Mary turned to the door, but Marshall remained behind. "If anything happens, you call us, Stephanie. If you're scared, or have a question, you call us. That's what we're here for. And a one piece of advice for tomorrow morning… Mary isn't a morning person, but she loves good coffee… Have a good night, and don't worry. We'll take care of you."

-o-o-

Ranger waved Tank into his office. The trip to Indianapolis proved to be a dead end. Stephanie had been long gone when they arrived at the motel. He looked at his second in command, waiting for him to speak.

"Steph's in Witsec."

"That's what I thought. Can Hector hack into their system?"

"He says he could but won't. Too risky for everyone involved."

Ranger nodded. He had been pretty sure this would be a dead. What use would he be if he was in jail for breaching a federal network?

"We'll find her, Ranger."

"Yes. We will. At any cost."


	3. Streets of Albuquerque

Winter had slowly transformed the landscape into a neat mantle of snow, giving the atmosphere that particular feel of Christmas. When Stephanie was coming back home, walking through the streets of the Old Town, she could see parents carrying big bags filled with toys in the trunk of their cars, and sharing special looks with each other.

It's been two months since she'd moved to Albuquerque, and as Christmas Eve drew nearer, she missed her family and friends in Trenton. Her marshals were kind to her so far: helping her settle in a small but clean apartment and find a job, and Mary had proven herself more invaluable, when it came to shopping.

Sure enough, her life was very different here in New Mexico. She couldn't be a bounty hunter as long as she was in Witness Protection, and she had wondered for the first few days what she would do for a living. But one of the other marshals in the office, Delia, had found out that Steph had majored in business, and put her in contact with a charity that needed an administrative manager. Despite her doubts she whether she would succeed, and being pushed by Mary and Marshall, she had found herself being interviewed by a busy woman, who was more than happy to hire her. Stephanie had soon found out she would have much more to do than what her job description said, but was more than okay with it. The longer she was spending working, the lesser she was alone in the apartment, trying to forget she just couldn't pick up the phone to call her mother.

Of course, they talked once in a while, but never at the same time, or the same day, and the protocol was highly secured. It had to happen in an office at the Sunshine building, on a special phone that prevented any detection, and as Steph couldn't tell where she was or what she was doing now, she only mostly listened to her mother rambling about Melinda Woodraft marrying Jeff Brown, because she wasn't involved in a trial, or about Joe Morelli's new girlfriend, some kind of pediatrician. She usually finished the conversation in a worse state of mind than when she started. What she craved the most, though, was to have news from her other family – Connie and Lula, at the bonds agency. And of course, the guys at Rangeman. What had happened to Keno, Tank's latest kitten…? She tried not to think about Ranger or wonder why he hadn't found her yet. She kind of expected from Batman to move heaven and earth to find her – and protect her, the way he had during all these years.

Her phone buzzed, as she was about to cross the Rio Grande Boulevard, and she took a step back to take the call.

"This is Stephanie."

"Steph, it's Karen. I hope you can help me – Nelly's kid broke his leg and she won't be able to help me Christmas Eve. I know it's not one of your duties, but would you lend me a hand? I could ask Loren or Steve, but he worked last Christmas and Lo, well, she's coming in on New Year's Eve… I know it's a lot to ask, but would you think about it? Please?"

"Don't worry, Karen, I'll be there… " the rest of her phrase was lost in the sound of a big truck driving by.

"So you still walk? Haven't found the car of your dreams?"

"I have a bad history with cars… I'd rather not have one now."

"Oh, I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Sure. Bye."

Steph hung up, getting lost in her thoughts again. They used to call me Bomber… she thought, remembering all the POS of cars she had had over the years that had gotten bombed or destroyed. This thought brought back the memories of the guys from Rangeman, all of them. She had refused when Mary offered to take her to a car dealership she knew, to find a vehicle to help her get around. Steph didn't want to start again with buying old cars that would fall apart or explode any day. No. this time, she wanted to make sure things were good, save enough money, and buy something better. This was her chance at a better life – she had to take it. Better life, huh? How many friends do you have now? Is your life really better than it was in Trenton?

"Shut up!" she said to her inner voice, not realizing she had spoken it out loud. Several people turned and looked at her, intrigued by her behavior. Fighting the tears, refusing to let them fall, she composed herself and crossed the street. Her decision was made: she would spend Christmas Eve at the Old Town's Homeless Shelter.

-o-o-

"No we're not, Marshall. There is no way in hell I'm going to a seminar on handling stress. And since you're not Stan, you can't make me go!" Mary turned her head to look quickly at her partner, who was sitting shotgun in the black SUV, before she resumed her attention to the heavy traffic.

"Actually, he's the one who asked me to tell you. I'll have you know that the seminar is in Topeka, Kansas. It's often assumed, mistakenly, I might add, that the Capitol of Kansas is Kansas City, when in fact it is Topeka. Curiously enough, USS Topeka, a Los Angeles-class submarine, which happens to be the third ship the US Navy named after the city, was used in filming the second Transformers movie. It was stationed in the Laurentian Abyss to guard the dumping site of Megatron… "

Mary was about to launch into a tirade to interrupt Marshall's inane trivia, when her phone rang.

"This better be important, Delia! I'm about to kick Marshall's ass."

"Mary, you have to get to APD. Steph Vaughn is there. Is that important enough for you?" And without another word, Delia hung up the phone.

"Well, buddy, sorry to interrupt your master class about the Land of Oz. I hope Nancy Drew is not on duty today, because we have to pick Miss Jersey from APD," Mary said, turning their black SUV around, without any regard for other cars on the road, or the safety of her passenger.

"Again? What happened this time?"

"Don't know, don't care. We get her out of there pronto and bring her back. End of story."

"Mary, sometimes your caring is so overwhelming. And what will you write in your report? You know Delia will flag the incident and you know how much you like paperwork… "

"I hate this job."

"No you don't."

"Smartass."

"Mr. Smartass to you. So what will be this time? Care to hazard a guess? Or should I?"

"I shouldn't have agreed to take her. She's too much trouble." Mary sighed, watching her partner from the corner of her eye.

"Well, she had her bag stolen, walked through Occupy Albuquerque, helped a naked man get dressed," Marshall paused, counting off the incidents Steph had been taken to APD, "and I think I'm forgetting something…"

"Yeah, when a guy broke the window at the shelter, remember? She chased him down and put him on the ground."

"Funny girl, this one…"

"Five times in two months, that must be some kind of a record…" Mary muttered under her breath, wondering what happened this time.

-o-o-

"We have a hit."

"Where?"

"Not where, who."

Ranger looked at his second in command with a blank face. "Explain."

Tank sighed and sat down in the visitor's chair in Ranger's office, removing a sheet of paper from a folder before sliding it across his friend's desk.

"This is the woman who paid for the rooms at the motel in Indie." The sheet of paper turned out to be a sketch artist drawing. "Hal found her photo from the Marshals Service Graduation Ceremony. Her name is Mary Shannon, and she was with the Fugitive Task Force out of the New Jersey office of the Service, until her reassignment in 2002. New office location is classified."

"WitSec. We just need the location."

"Ranger, we can't take Bomber out of WitSec. We'll have all of the Marshals Service on our asses, and it would be too dangerous for her, if the Farlicorne find out she's back here."

Ranger's eyes turned black with determination. Tank had seen these eyes several times in high-risk missions.

"Find her. Wherever she is. Find the marshal."

Sighing, Tank hefted his huge body out of the armchair, and headed for the door. He paused, turning to look straight into his friends' eyes. "One thing Steph wouldn't allow you to do is take away her freedom and her right to choose her life."

Without saying another word, he walked out of the office, to Hector's nest, feeling the eyes of the Rangemen on his back.

-o-o-

Chaos was reigning supreme at the wide office of the Albuquerque Police Department. Busy detectives were on two phone lines at the same time, while uniforms kept coming in and out. Sitting in a chair in front of the detective in charge of her file, Stephanie was patiently waiting for Mary and Marshall to arrive. It wasn't the first time she had had a close encounter with the police here in Albuquerque, but it was the first time the detective in front of her frowned, seeing that Mary Shepperd and Marshall Miller were to be contacted whenever Stephanie Vaughn was involved. Steph saw Detective Chaffee stiffen at the mention of the marshals, and the brunette was eager to understand why. The detective wasn't answering her questions, and Stephanie decided to wait, looking through the windows. Albuquerque was so different from Trenton. There was this feeling of the Wild West, of wide open space, of freedom that suited her well. No need to justify each and every action, no 'Burg gossip mill, no pressure to get married…

Suddenly, everything in the office quieted down. From the other end of the large space, Stephanie saw two familiar figures. They made their way though, passing by the desks, not caring in the slightest about the looks that they were attracting, as they seemed to be bickering. As usual, Steph thought. There was something special with these two, she had noticed a while ago. They always seemed to be arguing or bating each other, but there was no hint of malice in their actions. It was as if Stephanie was a spectator at a well-established show. The connection between Mary and Marshall was just something she would have liked to explore a bit further, as she thought there was much more to it than was meeting the eye.

"Not Topeka. I'll go to Hawaii, but certainly not to Topeka. That's a no-go, Marshall. End of discussion." Finally making it to Detective Chaffe's desk, Mary turned to the red-haired woman and asked, "What happened?"

Steph felt the tension building around her, among the three law enforcement officers. She couldn't put her finger on it precisely, but there was something to have a closer look at. But now was not the time. She needed more information.

"I did nothing wrong, Mary." Steph said, rising up from her chair. "I was talking on the phone with my boss, when that guy," she pointed to a young man, who was being questioned by officers, "tried to take my phone!"

Mary closed her eyes and sighed, awaiting the disaster that never failed to follow Stephanie.

"And what did you do exactly, Steph?"

"Well it's my phone; I wasn't letting him take it. So I might have hit him with my bag. And now he's pressing charges! Can you believe it?"

From her left, Steph saw movement, and before she realized what had happened, Mary was in front of Steph, using her own body as a human shield, her Glock in her hand. Marshall had the young man immobilized in an arm-lock and putting him face flat on the nearby desk, while the detectives who were questioning the perp were still seated.

"Security still at its top efficiency here…" said Mary, holstering her gun.

"I can't let you say that Mary… "started Abigail, her hands on her hips, her cheeks turning as red as her hair.

"This woman is crazy!" shouted the young man. "She hit me with a cinderblock!"

"Please don't tell me you have cinderblock in your purse," said Mary, sounding angry before turning to face Stephanie.

"Why would I carry a cinderblock in my bag? I don't have much there. My make-up, two Tasers, and the book about the city that you gave me, that's all."

Mary put her right hand to her forehead, trying to prevent the migraine that would inevitably come from the paperwork involved with this case. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marshall bringing back the young man to the detective in charge of the case.

"Two Tasers? Why would you carry two Tasers in your bag? "

"Once, I my Taser ran out of the charge. So I now carry one more for safety. Surely, you can understand that."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. No, Steph, I don't. I have a gun and I can use it. Grab your purse, we're leaving." Mary turned to make one more snarky comment about the efficiency of the APD, "Well, if this wasn't a ton of fun… "

But Abigail wasn't listening; she was engrossed in her talk with Marshall.

"And what should I say? That I don't want you going out of town again? I can't believe, your job comes first, again. And what would you have me tell my parents? 'Sorry, my fiancé is in Kansas with his partner?' "

"Abs, we'll talk about this later, okay? It's not the place." Abigail turned her head, losing her focus on her fiancé, only to realize that they were the center of attention of the office.

"Well, if the two of you are done with the reenactment of Desperate Housewives, maybe we can go?" Mary added, reaching for Steph's arm, and heading toward the exit. She couldn't hide the smirk on her face; everything wasn't perfect in paradise. Maybe there was hope after all.


	4. Have yourself a very merry Christmas

Albuquerque, New Mexico, 24th December.

Mary was comfortably sitting on her couch, enjoying the quiet of the evening. The day at the office had been hectic, almost all the witnesses feeling homesick. Each year it was the same; she'd spend the whole day answering her phone, convincing them that it wasn't a good idea at all to call or email their parents-brothers-cousins-housekeeper, unless they wanted out of the program, and then she'd come home and crash. This year it had been no different.

But now that the day was over, there she was, all by herself. Brandi was still in Miami with Jinx, and her friend, her best friend, hell, her only friend wasn't there. Marshall was at his house with the Police Barbie.

She sighed, picking up the remote control with one hand and a bowl of freshly made popcorn with the other, and settled in to finally watch the DVD she had put on. She would never admit it to anyone, much less to Marshall, but she was about to have a Lord of the Rings marathon all through the night of Christmas Eve and Day. Because, truth be told, Viggo Mortensen looked damn hot in those leather pants.

She smiled sadly as she remembered the day Marshall had literally dragged her to the theater to watch the Fellowship of the Ring, and how much she had complained about watching a movie about garden gnomes going for a walk. She had secretly enjoyed it a lot, letting her mind wander through the beautiful images of the Middle-Earth, but wouldn't ever let Marshall know. She did complain, a lot, when her partner had dragged her to watch the two other movies, happy that he was such a nerd that he couldn't wait for a Saturday to see them. They had, both times, hit the theater for the first screening .

And now, on Christmas Eve, she was ready to watch the trilogy again, on her own this time. It felt wrong on many levels to watch it without Marshall, because these movies were his thing and the experience without his quirky comments just wasn't the same. She turned off the TV, rose from the sofa, and wondered what she would do. That's all my life is, she thought, no one to take care of, no one to care for me, I'm all alone. If this is what I've always wanted, why is it so damn difficult? The only thing that would make this more pathetic if I got me a cat.

The annoying sound of her phone drew Mary out of her reverie. Who'd call her on Christmas Eve? Her mom and Brandi called two hours ago to wish her a Merry Christmas, so this was a no-go. Marshall was at home with his fiancée, throwing a Christmas Party, so the only one crazy enough to disturb her would be Stan. But Stan was somewhere in the Keys with Lia… so that left… A witness emergency, she thought with irritation that her marathon would have to wait until another day.

She hefted herself from the couch, reviewing open cases in her mind, and went to the kitchen counter to look at the caller ID.

"Crap!" she muttered, sensing something had happened again. Taking a deep cleansing breath to calm herself, she answered, "This is Mary."

"Mary? This is Stephanie. I am in trouble! You have to come!"

Mary was instantly in full marshal mode, gathering her things, while listening to her witness.

-o-o-

Old Town homeless Shelter, eighteen minutes later.

Stephanie was waiting waiting for Mary to show up inside the entrance of the shelter. She couldn't believe that of all the shelters in Albuquerque, the Mayor had chosen this one to come to, taking the time to serve soup and ham to the homeless. Because, of course, no matter where the Mayor went, a group of journalists followed; all looking for the perfect picture of him, showing compassion to people living on the street.

The unmistakable sound of Mary's car brought a small smile to Steph's lips. Mary would know what to do, as she always seemed to. Steph put on her coat, before going out of the shelter, in the cold December night.

The blond woman got out of her car, still on the phone.

"Yes, thank you very much Einstein, but I have a badge. So, whoever tries to site me for driving and talking on the phone, can stick the fine up his ass. And I called you because you're in charge while Stan is away, so I'm just following protocol. I know, unbelievable. Freaking hilarious. Nah, no need for you to come, I have it covered. Yes, you know how gracious and smiling I can be. Okay, I'll text you later."

Mary slid the phone into the pocket of her jeans and made her way to where Steph was standing.

"So, how many of them? Did they get any pictures of you?"

"No, I don't think so. They were all focused on the Mayor so I slipped away and called you. Did I do something wrong?"

"No. You couldn't guess he'd come here tonight. It's okay. But you need to get a car, so you can disappear when things like that happen." Mary turned on her heel, making her way to her car, happy to see the situation would be quickly resolved. After all, Viggo Mortensen was waiting for her at home.

"But, Mary, I can't just leave! They need me inside! Who is going to feed the people? It's Christmas Eve, for Pete's sake!"

Mary sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Maybe someday Steph would understand that her security had to take priority over everything else.

"Well, they'll have to do without you. I can't let you stay here, surrounded by photographers and cameras. Come on, I'll drop you off at home."

"No. I can't let Karen stay here on her own. You have to make the press go away!"

"Who do you think I am? Kim Kardashian? The press won't follow me, and nothing I say will make them go away! They'll leave when Berry leaves!"

"Then we have a problem, Mary. I have already agreed to let go of everything I had in Jersey. But I'm not doing it again here. I won't!"

Resolutely, Steph turned back and headed inside the shelter, not caring whether Mary followed her.

-o-o-

"Oh. My. God." Shocked, Marshall stopped in the doorframe of the Old Town Homeless Shelter, in his long wool coat. He couldn't believe his eyes. A wide smile stretched his face, when he took in the scene in front of him. The trained US Marshal saw no sign of Steph – which was a good thing – meaning she would not be on any picture.

The photographers were surrounding the Mayor, snapping shot after shot, firing questions at Berry about his policy regarding the homeless and the measures he planned to take. Men and women in rags were lining up to be served their holiday meal, each carrying a tray with a bowl and a plate. But on the other side of the counter, Mary Shannon, the hard ass US Marshal, his partner, serving what looked to be a succulent Christmas ham.

Marshall waited until Mary served the last person on her line before approaching her.

"Don't you dare say a word, Marshall, or I swear to God, I'll roast you in that big oven they have."

"And she's back! I was worried someone had taken over your body… But no, good ol' Mary Shepperd's serving up Christmas cheer with a healthy dose of disdain on the side. What in the name of the Enterprise are you doing here? Where's Steph?"

Mary looked around, checking for eavesdroppers, before she leaned a bit closer to Marshall. "She's in the kitchen, making pies. She couldn't be out of the kitchen because of Berry, so she's helping inside."

"And? How does it explain you serving food up here?"he said, waving his hands to the counter Mary was standing behind.

Mary sighed. "Steph was supposed to serve. And as she obviously can't do it," she gestured to the press still focused on the Mayor, "Since I didn't see anyone else who'd fit the bill, I took over. That way I could keep an eye on her too.

."

The door separating from the kitchen opened slightly and a red-haired woman's head went through it.

"Mary? Everybody's served? I'll help you clean up before we can set out the desserts. Steph's been taking care of heating the pies. Pineapple upside-down cake. She didn't never know they had oven-ready ones!."

"It's okay Loren, we're done here." Mary started gathering plates that were around her, piling them on top of each other, taking the cutlery apart, being careful not to drop anything, and was soon joined by the other woman. Noticing flashes from the photographers, Mary quickly turned to head towards the kitchen.

"Oh," Loren said, spotting Marshall. "You called for help? Is this your boyfriend?" the redhead asked, taking an appreciative look of the lanky form of the man standing in front of them.

"I'm Marshall. Mary's partner." He said, extending his right hand to Loren. "I figured you'd need help, yes. I'll help Mary clean up."

Mary couldn't help but notice the disappointment on Loren's face, when she nodded her agreement to Marshall before heading back to the kitchen. She waited until the door was closed to resume their talk.

"Don't you have a Christmas party with all of Abby's family to attend to? I would have texted you when we were done here, you know. You didn't have to check on us."

"I'm not checking on you. I was worried you didn't call or text. I understood it would only take a couple of minutes to figure things out, and it's been two and a half hours. Abs understands what my job is, you know."

And without looking at his partner, he grabbed a heavy pan full of cutlery and headed for the kitchen.

"Marshall! What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Steph. Well, Mary didn't call, so I came to see if everything was all right. I can see you've been busy." He nodded towards the dozen of cakes lined up on the kitchen counter, awaiting to be cut.

"Yes. Not as good as my mom's I'm afraid, but well, they'll have desert tonight." Steph looked around to see Loren exiting the kitchen through the service door, her cigarette and lighter in hand. "We're almost done, you can head home, you know. Mary'll give me a ride."

"I seriously doubt Mary's car will start tonight." He answered, smirking. He was used to the Probe's hectic behavior. "You need to get yourself a car, Steph, you do know that?"

"Yeah, Mary told me the same thing. I'll think about it, okay? But I hope I can afford insurance. My cars tend to go up in flames."

"In flames? Really? Should we warn the fire department?"

The door between the kitchen and the main room opened to reveal Mary, standing with both hands on her hips. "When you girls are done chatting about firemen, maybe we can have dessert? I have people waiting!"

"Coming, darling!" laughed Marshall, before grabbing a large platter with several cakes.

Loren made her way back to the kitchen, just as Marshall was walking out.

"Too bad he is taken," she sighed, looking at the door closing behind the lanky guy. "He seems like a nice man."

"He is. And Mary is nice too, in her way. They make quite a pair." Steph smiled as she heard the distinctive voice of the blond woman, shouting, "You are so going to pay, Marshall!" on the other side of the wall.

"How long have they been together?"

"What do you mean, Lo?"

"He told me he was Mary's partner. So I guess they're not married, right?"

Steph finally understood what Loren meant, and she couldn't explain her who they really were. But there was definitely more than friendship between her protectors. She could feel it.

-o-o-

Rangeman, 26th December.

The fifth floor of Rangeman Inc, Trenton was usually a quiet place on the 26th of December. Sure enough, the guys on monitor duty were watching the screens with their usual superhuman concentration. Sure enough, Ranger was in his office reviewing the reports from the previous days, making notes, and signing contracts. Sure enough, there were less people working during the holiday week, as some guys had headed home to spend Christmas with their families.

What was really unusual, for Cal to be running through the corridor, a piece of paper in hand, not caring whether he was making noise. They stopped in front of Ranger's open office door, waiting for him to acknowledge his presence.

"You'd better have a good reason to run in the corridor."

"We found her, boss, the marshal."

"Where is she?"

"Albuquerque."

"How did you find her ?"

"The software identified her. We used the drawing from the sketch artist in Indianapolis. Her face appeared in the Albuquerque Journal today. She was at some kind of charity function."

"Are you sure?"

"Hector is 96.5% sure."

Ranger pushed the button for Tank's direct line and said, "Prepare the jet. We're going to Albuquerque."


	5. With a little help from my friend

Night had fallen early, lighting tinsels of lights in the houses and buildings surrounding RangeMan Inc. Pierre "Tank" Cabret's eyes were taking in the scenery on the other side of the window. On his desk were piles of paper waiting to be reviewed or approved, but the big man couldn't take his eyes off the snowflakes falling from the darkened sky. The snow was sticking to the ground, giving a pale glow to the landscape under the street lamps. Growing up in Louisiana, Tank had rarely gotten to see much of it, and even less to play with it.

The ding of his phone brought him out of his reverie: the call was coming from Ranger's office. "Yo."

"Prepare the jet. We're going to Albuquerque." And without another word, his friend hung up.

"Why hell would we go to Albuquerque?" the big guy asked himself. After quickly checking the FTA's RangeMan was after, he realized none of them had any connection to New Mexico, leaving only one possibility.

"Steph..." he muttered to himself.

He grabbed the phone and pressed a button.

"¿Si?" Hector's voice answered him.

"She's in New Mexico, right?"

"Yes. The marshal woman is."

Tank hung up, and was out of his office a few seconds later. He crossed the control room, taking in the empty cubicles, and mentally making a note to check who was coming back when, before heading to the stairs.

After knocking on Hector's door, he walked into the room. Laptops and computers were neatly lined on the tables around the desk of a gang member turned electronics genius, who was holding a screwdriver, carefully taking the machine in front of him apart piece by piece.

"Show me the picture."

Hector put his tool down and turned to the screen of his computer. A picture of a blond woman, half hidden behind a lanky dark-haired man appeared, next to the drawing done by the sketch artist from Indianapolis.

"My software identified 27 out of 28 points of similarity between the picture and the drawing. I'm not a hundred percent sure it's her, we would have a better view if the man wasn't blocking her. But we're lucky the photographer had a good piece. It gives us quite a good view of the woman."

"What's the name of the paper?"

"Albuquerque journal. They covered a Christmas Eve dinner at a shelter."

A knock on the door cut off the conversation.

"¡Entre!" said Hector, reverting to Spanish. (Come in)

"El jefe quiere ver las fotos," Cal said from the doorframe. (The boss wants to see the photos.) Hector nodded before picking up a file off his desk.

Tank turned to the former Navy Seal in front of him and said, "I got that covered."

Cal nodded his understanding before closing the door.

"How much is the pot?" asked Hector.

"Close to five hundred."

There was a bet going among the core team members about the time it would take for the rest of RangeMen to notice that Hector was perfectly fluent in English.

"Give me that. I need to talk to Ranger."Without another word, Tank took the file Hector was holding, before leaving the office.

-o-o-

"That went well." Mary tried to break the silence inside the SUV. Stephanie was looking through the tinted windows, taking in the empty streets of the Old Town, lit only with the streetlamps, giving a dirty yellow glow to the snow blanketing the ground… She hadn't spoken a single word since the women left the Sunshine Building.

Steph turned to the marshal, driving her Probe, before looking through the windshield. She crossed both arms in front of her. How could Mary think the conversation with her mom went well? Helen had barely let her daughter speak, preferring to talk about the people of the 'Burg.

Right now, Stephanie didn't give a crap about Patricia Dunbard's son, or Liz Speck's last boyfriend. And even less, hear for the umpteenth time this month about Joe Morelli's new girlfriend, a speech therapist from Philadelphia, whom he would marry if Steph didn't come back quickly enough.

Stephanie could feel the tears stinging her eyes. She was far away from home, alone in a city she didn't know because she saw a guy kill a woman, and all her mother cared about was when she would come back to get married.

"She's probably uncomfortable talking to you, you know," Mary spoke loudly, not taking her eyes off of the road. "I know what you need. You're not in a hurry?"

Steph shook her head that she wasn't. Nothing was waiting for her in her apartment. Nobody to talk to, nobody to care for, only her TV and her laptop she couldn't use to email her friends. She could go back to the shelter, but really didn't feel like it right now. It had been tough enough on Christmas Eve.

Mary turned right, leaving the Rio Grande Boulevard and heading out to the suburbs.

"Where are we going, Mary? I live on the other side of the town."

"No way?" The marshal turned her head slightly and spotted the sparkling tears ready to flow. She sighed, before adding, "I thought we could get pie. Pie makes everything better."

"Yeah, you're right. Pie makes everything better." Steph answered in a dreamy voice. "You're a pie person?"

"As long as there're no apples in it, I'm a pie person."

"You don't like apple pie?" Steph turned to look at Mary, raising both eyebrows.

"Ate too much of it." Mary remembered the time when she'd been pregnant, and had craved apple pie all the time. It was a little over a year ago, when her sister was still engaged to Peter, and before Marshall was engaged to the Police Barbie… And now, a year later, where was she? Brandi had ran away to Florida, her best friend was nearly married, and here she was, the Great Mary Shannon, Certified Ass-Kicker, all alone, as she had finally given her baby up for adoption. She shrugged off the memories."But they make a to-die-for chocolate and pear pie."

Mary stopped in front of Maggie's pie shop, and let her car cough its mechanical lungs out before turning the engine off. Even for the oh-so-noisy angry aubergine Probe, the sound seemed rather abnormal.

"You sure this car will start again?" Steph asked, concerned, as she didn't know at all where they were.

"It always starts. Or I'll have someone pick us up."

"Marshall?"

"Nah, I'll ask Delia. C'mon… And don't judge the place by the furniture. They put their money in the ingredients, not tables and chairs."

Mary pushed the door of the pie shop, and immediately the smell of fresh bakery overloaded Stephanie's senses.

The walls were covered with red paneling, and the chairs and tables were a disparate assortment. Only the green and white checkered tablecloths were the same everywhere. Over the dining area, delicious odors were coming from the kitchen, and Steph could see men taking molds out of the oven. On the other side of the room, near an antique juke-box, the main counter was loaded with half a dozen different cakes, some of them still smoldering.

"Mary! Long time, no see!" said an old man, wearing a white apron and coming out of the smoky zone. "Marshall's not here? Too bad, I had his special!"

"No, he's not. This is Stephanie, Miguel. I wanted her to try your pies."

The old man extended his hand to Stephanie, who shook it.

"Mary says you have the best pies in town. And she's a pie person!"

"Well, you sit here, and I'll bring you something." Miguel left the two women at their table, before heading to the counter while muttering in Spanish.

"We didn't order, Mary…"

The marshal smiled. "We never order here. Miguel or Maggie bring us what they think we will enjoy."

Stephanie's gaze followed the old man, as she tried to guess which pie she would get, and in the process managed to drop her purse to the floor. "Crap!" All her things were all over the tiled floor. Mary let an eye roll escape before leaning down to help Steph gather her belongings. She froze, after picking up a small wrapped candy.

"So sorry, I didn't think it was so close… thanks for your help, Mary… Mary?" Stephanie's voice turned worried as she took in the other woman, squatting on the ground with a candy in her hand, a faraway look in her eyes.

"Mary? You're okay?" Steph put her hand on Mary's arm, breaking the marshal out of her reverie.

"What? Yeah, I am. Just had a flashback, that's all. There you go."

"Nah, keep it. Got plenty at home."

Mary's eyes widened as the meaning of the words registered. "Where'd you get this? You know you can't contact anyone…"

"Why do you always assume I did something wrong? Loren asked for the presents we would like to have, and I suggested the salt water taffy. She ordered them online, two boxes per employee. It's just… well… " Steph's eyes filled with tears. These candies were more than sugar, they were her link to her family and friends she had left back east.

"I never ate a lot of them while I lived in Jersey, you know. It was so easy to find, I just took them for granted, and I knew I could have them anytime I wanted. But now, they are kind of… rare. You'll probably think it's stupid, but when I chew one of these, it brings back memories of summer in Point Pleasant."

Mary carefully unwrapped the plastic paper around the bite-size candy, before putting it in her mouth. It was true, she could almost feel the taste of home. She closed her eyes, and images came back to her mind. Vacations in Long Branch with her mom and dad, smiles, and sandcastles. Times when she could be just a little girl, having fun.

"It's not the first time you've had one of these, right?" Stephanie asked.

"How did you know?"

"You didn't seem surprised by the salty taste. When Lo tried them, it took her a bit of time to get used to it. You from Jersey?"

"Spent a few years there, yeah. I was in the FTF in Newark before Albuquerque."

"Oh. And what made you leave?"

"I had to transport a witness with Marshall. Somewhere along the way, he convinced me."

"You know Loren asked me for his phone number? Even though she thought you two were together?"

"What made her think we were together?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

The smell of cinnamon interrupted their conversation. Miguel was holding two large plates. On one of them was a huge slice of pie with chocolate, which the old man put in front of Mary. The other plate, for Steph, had six much smaller slices.

"Well, for your first time, sweetie, I thought it'd be best to let you have a go at all we have today. So I know next time what you'd like." Miguel pointed at each of the slices on the plate. "We have a classic apple pie with cinnamon – but Mary won't eat that anymore. Here is chocolate-pecan, peaches and whipped cream, this one is pumpkin, then Maggie made her blueberry special, so you're lucky to have it, and this one is with mango and passion fruit. Let me know how you like them."

Mary waited until Miguel walked away from the table to ask the question that was burning on her lips.

Stephanie was looking at the pies in front of her, with sparks in her eyes. She completely forgot about her talk with her family, thought Mary, suppressing a smirk.

"So, Steph, tell me why Loren thought Marshall and I were a couple?"

"Because you look like you are. Why aren't you two together?"

-o-o-

Dead Man Walking. Tank was sure that's what he looked like, crossing the control room on the fifth floor. He knew the talk he was going to have with Ranger would end on the mats. He already had to walk that path in the past, so he knew perfectly well what was coming to him.

He entered his friend's office without knocking, and closed the door behind him. Ranger was signing papers when he came in, and just shot him a look, acknowledging his presence.

Tank stood in front of the large window, gathering his thoughts, waiting for Ranger to finish what he was doing. The sound of pen sliding over paper finally stopped, and Tank turned to face his friend. Without saying a word, Ranger pushed the pen and the stack of papers to his second-in-command. Tank knew well this was the procedure for granting him the leadership of RangeMan while Ranger was away. But this time, he wasn't going to sign it.

"No."

Ranger raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"Why?"

"For starters? No plan. Too many unknowns. Too dangerous. Even if the marshal is the right woman, she's a WitSec inspector. She'll have contingency plans. At least right now we are almost certain about Bomber's location."

"Sign the damn papers."

"No."

As Ranger rose from his comfortable armchair, Tank moved quickly towards the door, to completely block it, preventing his friend to walk out of the office.

"Are you for real? I'll take you down."

"Not without a fight, my friend. And I'm counting on your coming to your senses before we do any serious damage to each other," Tank said gruffly.

Ranger's only answer was his eyebrow shooting up in a dare to his oldest friend to defy him.

"Where?"

Tank opened the door, not caring in the least if Ranger followed, and headed for the gym.


	6. Long time, No See.

The lamenting buzz of the phone lying on the bedside table woke Mary up. It couldn't be the time to wake up as she was fairly certain that yesterday was a Saturday, which meant that today was supposed to be a Sunday. If the phone rang, it could only mean trouble.

Her foggy mind was about to realize that she had to grab the noisy device when it suddenly stopped making that noise. Mary sighed, knowing full well that she should be at least looking at who had called her.

If it's urgent, it will ring again. If not, it can wait until I'm awake, she thought. She wasn't on call this Sunday, and really expected to have a full day of rest, unless a witness decided otherwise.

She pulled the covers over her head, curling up under them and closing her eyes to go back to sleep, when the buzzing started again. With the eyes still shut, she let her right hand grab the devil's gadget off the bedside table, her covers sliding to the floor.

Opening one eye, she saw the call came from her partner. "You better have a damn good reason to wake me up at," she opened her other eye and stared at the clock, "the crack of dawn." The red numbers showed quarter of nine in the morning.

"Who's Loren?" A very feminine voice came out of the phone. . Mary sat up in bed, no longer sure that she saw the name 'Marshall' flash on the screen and looked at the phone again. And there it was, her partner's name lit in white letters across the screen of her iPhone. "Abigail? Did something happen to Marshall?"

"What? No! Mary. Who. Is. Loren?" Abigail said through her clenched teeth.

"Where's my partner, Detective? Why are you using his phone?"

"Answer my question, Mary!"

Mary hung up the phone. Whatever was going on between Marshall and Abby wasn't her concern. But the fact that an APD Detective had the nerve to use the phone of a US Marshal, and a Marshal working for the Witness Protection Program no less, was definitely against every security protocol. Fully awake now, she hit the speed dial two and waited for all hell to break loose.

-o-o-

Stephanie smirked at the scene that was unfolding on the other side of the window panels. Sitting in the conference room of the Sunshine Building, she was listening through the open door at her marshals' bickering with one another. While not unusual, the argument was getting quite heated, as they went on and on about a phone lock code, that apparently had been too easy to guess, and Mary was giving a very angry Marshall a hard time.

"Sweet Jesus! What possessed you to use your mother's birthday for the code? Even Delia could have guessed that!" said Mary, while sorting through a stack of files on her desk. "You're such a mama's boy!"

"Just drop it, Mary. We have other things to do right now," her partner answered, watching Steph fidget in her chair in the conference room and look at her watch. Grabbing his own stack of papers, he walked to the door, and asked while passing in front of Mary's desk, "Dickie call?"

Stephanie's head jerked up at the mention of the familiar nickname. Dickie? What was the horse's ass doing here? Her mind wandered to her ex-husband, and of course the first memory was of him playing hide the salami with Joyce Barnhardt on her beautiful dining room table.

"Dickie?" she asked Marshall with narrowed eyes.

He studied her carefully, while settling into a chair on the other side of the oak table in the conference room. "Richard Donaldson, the ADA in charge of your case. He'll liaise with the ADA in New Jersey." He glanced at his watch. "Should be here in a few minutes."

Marshall saw her relax against the back of her chair, and made a mental note to check for a 'Dickie' in her file. Steph shot a sideways glance at Mary, who was still at her desk, talking on the phone, and leaned forward to the man in front of her.

"How long have you been together?" she mouthed.

Marshall looked up at her over the paper sheet he was holding. "We're not together. But partners since 2002."

"Really? Why? Is it against the rules?"

"No, strictly speaking there's no official anti-fraternization policy, though, it's usually frowned upon. But in reality, it just… " Marshall paused for a second, trying to find the right word, "didn't happen."

"Well, Dickie will be here in ten. He's got the dates for the trial. You ready for this?" Mary asked, storming into the room. She knew the woman sitting in front of her partner had the power to bring down the entire Farlicorne family with her testimony during the trial. Several parallel investigations into every aspect of their business had already started under the RICO act.

"No. I'm scared. I don't want to think about the things that could happen to my family and friends. Or you when we get to New Jersey. And if they get their hands on me…" Stephanie's voice cracked, and she turned away from the marshals, trying to hide her tears. She had thought about going back to Jersey, more than once, even dreamed about it. And each time, she had felt the fear creeping up her spine, turning her insides to ice. She could just walk out of the building, leave Stephanie Vaughn behind, and settle somewhere else without having to face the Farlicorne. But she wouldn't be able to look at herself in a mirror for the rest of her life, if she did that. She wasn't a quitter.

She turned back, and faced the marshals, not caring about the tears sliding down on her cheeks. Thank God for the waterproof mascara, she thought. "I'm scared, but I'll do it. I have to, if I want to have my life back."

-o-o-

Very much bruised Tank entered the Haywood building on Monday morning. He was hurting in a lot of places, but wasn't about to acknowledge it to anyone, and even less to show the team he could actually be in pain. If Ranger could walk in as nothing had happened, so could he. What made him go on was the thought that Ranger had to be feeling pain too, as the blows he'd managed to land on his friend were likely to leave marks.

We should do this more often, he thought with a fleeting smirk. There's nothing like a sparring match with no holds barred to get the blood pumping. Both men had fought with all they had, neither wanting to give up his position. Ranger had scrambled the cameras, and Tank made sure no one would bother them, and whatever had happened in the gym stayed in the gym.

Now was the time to gather the core team and give them the orders for the weeks to come. If only he could make it through the day without limping … Tank walked into his office just to pick up his laptop before heading to the conference room, passing through the bullpen until he reached Lester's desk.

"Get Bobby. Conference room in five."

Lester nodded instead of making a usual crack in response. Judging by the look on Tank's face the matter was urgent, so he rose from his chair and hurried for the stairs.

-o-o-

"We have to bring down the Farlicorne family."

Ranger looked at his men, who'd gathered around the table. He saw a questioning glance Lester shot at Tank, and Bobby's knuckles turning white, from the tension between his entwined fingers. The only one who didn't show any surprise was Tank, for they had discussed this plan until late the previous night.

"We know that Stephanie was relocated to Albuquerque, under the protection of the Federal Marshals. The only people privy to this information are the core team and Hector. If this leaks out from RangeMan, the perpetrator will suffer the consequences." Ranger emphasized the last part of his sentence. He knew he could trust his men with his life, but sometimes, things that go without saying had to be said.

"I won't go to Albuquerque. Neither will Tank. Lester, you'll pick up Javier from Miami, and the two of you will take a trip to New Mexico. Under the radar. Your official business will be to look for a suitable building to establish RangeMan's presence in the SouthWest."

"In the meantime, we will use all of RangeMan's resources to bring down the Falicorne family. If we can get the feds enough evidence, Stephanie's testimony won't be necessary and she'll be able to come back to Trenton. This will be 'Operation Jellyfish'."

"You're sending me on a suit-and-tie mission? With Javier? Why don't you go?" Lester asked finally. "You want me dead? That's it, you want me dead."

"I can't go because the marshals aren't stupid and will have linked the jet to RangeMan. And I'm certainly under monitoring. If I move around the country, I'll be tracked. If I head west, they'll move Steph again and we'll have to start from square one. So I'll stay in Trenton to make sure I'm seen, while my cousin visits family in Miami and then takes a trip with my brother. What you both do with your free time is not my concern."

A knock on the door interrupted Ranger, and Hector strode into the room, a file in his hands. He gave it to Ranger, and walked out just as swiftly as he'd walked in.

Inside the file were four folders marked 'Confidential' ", which the boss handed out to the team, before opening his own.

"This is what we have on the female marshal, and on the Farlicorne family. We meet tomorrow at zero six hundred hours to plan the rest of the op. Dismissed."

Picking up their folders, the three guys headed for the door when Ranger spoke again. "Tank, hang back."

Lester patted the big man on the shoulder with an apologetic glance, and Bobby whispered "Come downstairs if you need fixing later," before mimicking Lester's gesture and leaving the room.

Tank closed the door, reached for his courage –again – and turned to face his boss.

"That was one hell of a fight," said Ranger.

"That was one hell of a disagreement."

"Glad we could come to an understanding."

Tank nodded.

"That was one hell of an arm-lock. We should do that more often," Ranger added with a barely there smirk.

"Not too often, though. The guys might freak out." And without another word, Tank left the conference room.

Ranger followed suit, heading into his office to review the file Hector had given him.

-o-o-

"Marshall?" The voice of his co-worker roused the marshal out of his reverie. "This is the information you wanted for the Vaughn case. Names and addresses of the companies she'd worked for, employee backgrounds and anything else I could dig up. Have fun."

"Thanks, Delia," said Marshall, taking the file. "I'll make Mary a copy."

Marshall had left his partner was still in the large conference room, reviewing the details of the case with Stephanie and Dickie. He had been called by one of his witness and had headed out of the large room to take care of him. The meeting went well, based on the trial dates Donaldson had given them, they would be back in New Jersey in February. This would give them a month to plan for all possible contingencies from the trip to accommodations, and prepare Steph for taking the witness stand. Afterward, who knew… if the danger of retribution was still present, Steph would be brought back to Albuquerque or relocated someplace else. The Marshals Service didn't take chances with the lives of witnesses in mob cases. Marshall sighed, thinking that Mary would have to tell Stephanie that she might not be able to return to Trenton after the trial.

He was about to go back into the conference room when his phone rang, taking his attention away from the meeting. "Marshall Mann," he answered in his professional tone.

He closed his eyes in exasperation, when he heard the voice at the other end of the line."Maybe, because you used a federal device to satisfy your curiosity, Abigail."

The frown between is eyes deepened, as he went on, "Now, did you call me on official business? If not, this can wait until tonight. Contrary to popular belief, I too have important work to do."

He hung up, glad that Mary wasn't there to give him hell for his fiancée's phone call. The day before, he'd been unpleasantly surprised, when his phone had suddenly stopped working, not letting him make or receive calls. What had disturbed him further though, was Stan's call on their house phone, ordering him to come into the office a.s.a.p., and the lecture he'd received from the boss upon getting there. Marshall was still angry at Abigail for her continuous jealousy, but moreover for breaking the unspoken rule of never messing with his job, and in turn he'd do his damnedest not to mess with hers. And of course, after Marshall had gotten back home, they'd had another row about his job, his partner, and their stalled wedding plans.

Not now, he thought. Focus.

He forced his eyes back to the file he'd been studying when his phone rang to continue reading and taking notes. He lost himself in the task, until a name jumped out at him. He grabbed the phone and dialed a number with the Washington area code and, while he waited, watched the conference room to make sure Mary wasn't about to head back to her desk.

"Eleanor? This is Marshall. Very well, thank you. Listen, I need a favor. Can you run a search for me? Uh-huh, on the down low. I'll owe you one. Sure, I'll wait. The name's Mañoso. Ricardo Carlos. When do you think you'll have it ready? That'd be great, thank you." He hung up the phone and muttered under his breath, "Long time, no see, Mañoso,"


	7. Where did we meet ?

Ranger studied the file in front of him. Marshal Mary Shannon had an impressive service records even by his standards: during her four-year stint at the Newark branch of the FTF, she'd had a perfect capture record and left no open cases when she transferred out. From the utter lack of any further case information in her file, Ranger had enough to confirm his hunch: the marshal had to have transferred into the WitSec branch of the service. The fact that she had remained with this branch as long as she had could only mean one thing: the woman was the job. And for the past ten years, she'd had the same partner, Marshall Mann.

Mann? Why do I know this name? Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached for the phone and pushed five, Hector's direct line. "Necesito saber todo lo que puedes averiguar sobre el Senior Inspector Marshall Mann desde el U.S. Marshals Service." ("I need to know everything you can find out about the Senior Inspector Marshall Mann from the U.S. Marshals Service.")

Ranger leaned back in his chair, looking through the window, thinking. If only he could remember why the name sounded so familiar…

-o-o-

Fort Bragg, June 2001.

He knew he was right. Following the nerd's instructions would have gotten them into more trouble than what they'd faced. Because, really, what do the guys in the cubicles knew about being in the field? All they did was staring at their monitors all day long, analyzing data that the guys in the field went to retrieve. And after, they were the ones telling the operatives that no, they shouldn't go through the back door, but instead through the second-floor window. Could any of them handle carrying a backpack and a machine gun? He'd liked to have seen one of them walk a mile in ranger shoes.

Geeks. And the worst was yet to come: the debriefing with Lt Mann, who'd gotten assigned to for this exercise. I hope I'll never have to run a mission with that smug asshole again.

The bullet erupted from the gun with a pop and hit the target at the farthest corner of the shooting range, to be followed by fourteen others, emptying the clip. They all finished in the ten zone, each one a kill shot. The barrel of the Glock 22 remained still for a few seconds before the shooter slowly lowered it. After dropping the empty magazine out of the gun, he took off his earplugs and glasses.

He stretched slowly, holding both hands level and extending his arms forward, letting the tension he always felt at the shooting range leave his body. Around him, in the lanes, shots were fired from a variety of weapons. Letting the familiar cacophony block the vestiges of his unease, he stole a glance at the clock, then holstered his weapon and left the range.

Outside, the sun blinded him for a moment, but his sunglasses shielded his eyes from the glare. He lingered by the entrance, committing the scenery in front of him to memory: the large brick buildings, the green grass and the tree-lined alleys. In a little less than three months, he would be back to his civil life and his career as a US Marshal.

This short break had been more than necessary to if he were to regain his composure before the debriefing session that was sure to raise his blood pressure sky high.

Capitain Manoso, the typical stubborn prat, ignored istructions and nearly compromised the mission. I hope I never have to run a mission with this arrogant bastard again.

-o-o-

The room was painted white. The only touches of color were wooden chairs and tables, arranged in a U-shape in the middle and the black screen on the wall. In the silence of the room, two officers stood, glaring at each other.

The tension between the two men was almost palpable, thought Commandant Pierre Cabret as he walked into the room for the debriefing of the exercise. Lieutenant Mann and Captain Manoso were sizing each other up, each of them gripping a closed folder. The door opened as their commanding officer, Major Gustavsson made his way in, followed by Cabret.

"At ease," said the Major, tossing his own file onto the table. "Sit your asses down!" The officers complied in silence. "Commandant, on the video."

Cabret picked up the remote control in front of him, and pushed the 'Play' button. On the screen appeared a multiple-camera view of a house. The cameras were placed in different rooms, showing hostages tied to chairs, and tangos, carrying weapons, patrolling the perimeter.

"A hostage situation at an embassy. Random patrols inside and outside the building. The targets were heavily armed and skilled with weapons. The ingress to the property suggested by Lt Mann was through the garden, and the house via the windows on the second floor. Lieutenant, explain. "

"Yes, sir. One man was to cross the garden without a backpack or heavy weapon to be able to climb up without making noise. The rest of the squad was to take care of the random patrols and the guard, stationed around the building, to take their places and be ready to back up the inside man. The only room that allowed access was the Ambassador's office, in which we the hostages were kept. The balcony allowed access to work on the window and to cut the glass rather than shoot through it."

"Why didn't you follow the instructions, Captain?"

" With the effect of surprise, we took over the building in under five minutes."

"You got all the tangos dead, when you were supposed to bring them back alive," Marshall said in a cold voice. "If you had followed my instructions, that wouldn't have happened."

"We got the hostages out?" Manoso grit his teeth. "Mission accomplished."

The Lieutenant flipped through the pages inside the folder, until he found the instructions he'd given the Captain. "You caused a fucking racket! I very clearly stated that this plan should have been executed in the early hours."

"Why?"asked the Major.

"Roosters. There are hens and roosters in the back of the building, the Ambassador's wife breeds them in every country where she stays.. The hen's paddock is located twenty meters from the windows of the Ambassador's office. Once Amazingly enough, the roosters crow at the dawn break in this part of the world as in every other. That would have given your guy enough time to cut the glass and distracted the tangos. Once the guy had silenced the men in the office, the Ambassador is free – provided the guys outside did their job too."

The Major looked at the Lieutenant, plain surprise in his eyes.

"Roosters? You're fucking kidding me. That's all you could come up with Lieutenant?"

"Pigeons were used during World War I and II."

Major Gustavsson looked carefully at the sheets in front of him – Lieutenant Mann's instructions - before turning to Commandant Cabret. They both had a silent talk and then the Major turned to the two officers.

"Captain Manoso, tomorrow you run the exercise again and you will follow Lt Mann's instructions to the letter. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

-o-o-

"Javier."

"Lester."

The cousins didn't shake hands or hug, but stared at each other warily, waiting for the other to start talking. Around them, the crowd in the terminal of the Miami International Airport was dispersing, as families and businessmen picked up their luggage and headed out of the building.

"We better get going. Abuela's waiting for us." Javier finally broke the silence. "We'll head to RangeMan after so you can tell me why Carlos sent you."

"Why would Carlos have to send me? Can't I come visit my family once in a while?"

"And asking for me to pick you up? Very funny, smartass."

Lester was about to answer when a small dark-clothed frame nearly ran into him.

"Mi pequeño! Como estas?" Abuela Rosa cradled her grandson's face in her hands, before planting kisses on his cheeks, hugging him tightly, and whispering in his ear, " Resolverás su negocio con Javier, a continuación, acabas de comer en casa."(Resolve your argument with Javier, then come home to eat.) She hugged him once more, before leaving her two grandsons and heading to her car.

"She's still driving?" asked Lester, watching her climb into her old sedan.

"Unfortunately. You know how she is." Javier added, before nodding to two well-built men, who followed the old woman in a black SUV.

"Yeah, I remember…. And my ass remembers too. We'd better get going."

The drive from the airport to the offices of RangeMan went in complete silence, as Javier and Lester didn't want to break the truce that had appeared in the presence of their grandmother. Javier was also aware that if Carlos had sent Lester to Miami despite the cousins being in a more than cold relationship, it could only be for something very important.

The Miami building had the same layout of its floors as in Trenton, the only difference being that it had an eighth floor. Lester greeted a few familiar faces on the fifth, taking a few minutes to talk to the men he knew, before going into his cousin's office. He took the chair opposite Javier's and took one file out of his go-bag.

"This is the file for Operation Jellyfish. Call Ranger after you read."

Javier looked straight into his cousin's eyes, trying to decipher what the hell this operation could be. If someone was coming from the head office without using the company jet and on the pretence of seeing Abuela – then operation Jellyfish was something huge. He read the first two lines of the file.

Confidential: Operation Jellyfish.

Target: Bring down the Farlicorne family.

"I thought you were the stupid one, Les. Seems for once my brother managed to outdo you."

"This is about Bomber, Javi."

Javier took his eyes off of the file, at the mention of Steph's nickname.

"Oh. I'd better call Carlos then."

"Yes. Call me when we have to head to Abuela's. I'll be with Miguel."

And without any more words, Lester left the office.

-o-o-

"My brother is crazy..." whispered Javier to his cousin. He had finished reading the file Lester had brought after talking to Ranger. Around them, the smells of flowers and the sound of music filled their Abuela's garden. The cousins were standing under the pergola, waiting to be called inside for dinner.

"How can we find her in New Mexico? I mean, okay, the WitSec office is in Albuquerque, but she could be living in Santa Fe or any other town they got over there…" Javier said with dismay.

"You forget the easy part. Getting in there without the US Marshals taking notice. Going to be funny, knowing how is Bomber."

"Goddamit, can't we just go to Trenton and take care of the mob instead?"

"Yeah, I agree. Carlito always keeps all the fun for himself…"

Javier elbowed Lester in the stomach."Don't call him Carlito. You should know that by now."

"Or what? You'll take me to the mats? I'll tell Abuela."

"Dumbass. Always running to Granny at your age?"

"You're just jealous I'm her favorite."

"¡Javi! ¡Telefono!" Rosa's voice carried from the living room. With a scathing glance at his cousin, Javier left to pick up the phone.

Turning back to the garden, Lester waited until he could feel his grandmother standing behind him.

"Will the both of you stop bickering? You just need to say you're sorry, you know. And everything will be like when the two of you were kids…"

"I already said I was sorry, Abuela. He doesn't believe me."

"You have to mean what you say, you know… Now come in, time to eat."

-o-o-

"Where's Marshall?" Stan asked Mary, watching her idly play with a paperclip while she was waiting for the person on the other end of the line.

She caught his stare, shrugged in her typical I-don't-give-a-fuck way, and peered into a drawer, looking for a pen long lost. "Don't know. Grab me a pen off his desk, will ya, Stan? He's got a ton of them and I can't find mine." She turned the receiver back to her mouth, "Yes? No, I'll wait. It's urgent! As in 'I need to speak to him right now'!" Covering the phone with her left hand, she said to Stan, "Marshall got a phone call and left without a word." Going back to her phone conversation, she turned away from her boss. "Dickie! Miss me? "

Stan left Mary to deal with the Assistant District Attorney, and went to look for Marshall. His senior inspector has been behaving strangely in the last two weeks. First, there was the incident with his phone and Abigail – he made a mental note to mention it to the detective the next time he saw her- second, his strange behavior as he jumped on his phone every time it rang, not letting anyone else pick up his line.

-o-o-

The night descended on the wide streets of Albuquerque. The glimmering lights of the streetlamps were coming on as the moon replaced the sun in the sky. Now and then, the loud bark of a dog filtered through the closed windows of the black SUV. On the dashboard, the electronic clock turned to ten-o-four in the evening.

In the pocket of a long woolen coat, a silenced phone vibrated, trying to get the attention of its owner, to no avail. The man reclined in the bucket seat, staring at a small apartment building across the street, frowning, and his gaze lost in times long past. His musings weren't even disturbed by the headlights of a passing car. On the second floor of the building, the light from the third window on the left side was turned off, breaking the man out of his reverie. He started the engine of the truck and rolled into the street.

For anyone who'd care to take a closer look, the apartment on the second floor, which the man had watched that evening, was rented to Stephanie Vaughn.


	8. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marshall pays a visit to Steph ...

Les better not muck everything up, thought Ranger. He was looking through the tinted bullet-proof window of his office, and his mind wandered to what was happening in Miami. Once again, he considered whether he had any other options than sending Lester to Javier. It wasn't as if he could have gone himself or sent Tank. Both were too involved with the day-to day business at Haywood, not to mention operation Jellyfish, and Bobby couldn't leave for so long right now, being due in New York to train the new medic of the RangeMan branch. That only left Lester to look for Steph. And Javier. And god only knew what kind of trouble the two of them would find together. Last time had been epic, and he was quite certain both men were still banned from Minneapolis. And maybe from the entire state of Minnesota.

Standing there, looking at the people passing by on the street made him think. Going to Indianapolis had been a mistake, and he knew it. It had given the US Marshals Service his name and tied his hands. And if someone at the Service picked up an idea to poke through his file a little… Ranger was damn sure that it would raise enough red flags to get him a call from the Pentagon. Now, he had to rely on his brother and cousin to not kill each other, and on the capacity of Rangeman to bring down one of the biggest crime families on the East Coast. Why make things simple?

Ranger heard the familiar ping of an incoming email message, and turned to his wooden desk. The email commandeered all his attention as soon as he saw the name on the subject line. Enclosed, was a complete résumé of certain US Marshal. Ranger scanned the basic biographical information, the scholarships received and smirked noticing the major - who the hell minored in geology nowadays?)- but it was the single line that made Ranger frown.

1999-2001: Fort Bragg. 902nd Military Intelligence. Intelligence Analyst.

The memory came back to him in a rush. The reason the name Mann sounded familiar to Ranger. He remembered that small room, where he had been reprimanded by Major Gustavsson, and the lanky black-haired man, who'd turned his geeky nose up at a perfectly decent op and had the nerve to suggest using roosters, of all things. The craziest training operation ever orchestrated in his long military career.

Ranger grabbed the phone and pushed speed dial one. "My office. Now."

It would be a matter of seconds before Tank showed up.

-o-o-

Fort Bragg, 2001.

The music was not so loud that Carlos Manoso could not still hear the laughter of the officers drinking at the table in the back. Lifting his head, he signed to the bartender to pour another scotch, trying to block out the voices. "They are not laughing at me," he thought. "I need to stop being paranoid."

He felt somebody slide onto a stool next to his, but did not bother looking up, couldn't the fucker see that he was still brooding? Tonight, he wasn't in a generous mood. Earlier, he had had his butt kicked by a geek for no reason other than he'd opted not to use roosters as the kid wanted. Roosters! For fuck's sake! As he and his men went to through the exercise again, this time strictly following the directions given by Major Gustavsson, he'd had every intent to prove how bad the instructions were. He and his guys were über-trained Rangers - Special Forces – nothing to sneeze at, and they knew what real fieldwork was. They had been deployed in more conflict zones and had to face death more times than this geek had cups of coffee. And yet, today… Manoso sighed. Today, he had followed the instructions to the letter, trying with everything he had to prove the Lieutenant that his plan had been wrong, and instead had found himself and his team extracting the ambassador smoothly, without any casualties. The plan had worked out, and in a record time. And it irked him. The Great Manoso was shown up by some geek with no field experience.

"The sooner you'll get over it, the better you'll feel, you know." Commandant Cabret's voice boomed over the music. Without glancing at the captain, he took a pull from his beer. "Sometimes, admitting you were wrong takes more courage than going through the fire."

Manoso slowly turned his head to look at the man sitting next to him. The large man took another gulp of his beer, while placing a file on the bar's counter, his large hand preventing Manoso to open it.

"Face it, Mann came up with a workable plan to rescue thirteen hostages in Iraq." Cabret finally turned to look at the captain, sitting next to him. "The kid's brilliant, and even though his ideas are often farfetched, the Rangers will have a hell of a time replacing him, when he retires from active duty.."

"Which hostages? We had hostages in Iraq?" asked Manoso.

"If I were to tell you, I would have to kill you." Cabret took another pull before pushing a manila folder to the younger man.

Manoso looked at the file, and then at the commandant to catch his slight nod. Reaching out to open the folder, he asked, "Mann's leaving?"

"Yes." Cabret took another drink.

"And that's bad?"

The commandant turned to face Manoso, looking him straight in the eyes, then spoke patiently, as if dealing with an imbecile. "That's bad because we're going to lose the best analyst we ever had. The one who isn't put off by the possibility of being ridiculed for letting the craziest ideas into the ops, the one we only pair with the best teams. And it would have done you good, Captain, to listen and learn. We had high hopes for you, Manoso, but your little outburst with the Major wasn't lost on anyone. You should have been thrilled by the opportunity to work with him, instead of mocking him. Wipe that pout off your face, Manoso, and learn the damn lesson. "

Pulling a few bills from his pocket, Cabret put them on the bar, before turning and stalking out.

Carlos Manoso looked at the Commandant leaving the officer's mess, noticing he had forgotten to take the folder he came with. He opened the file and started reading.

-o-o-

The courtyard at 221 Baker Street was filled with snow. As the children who lived in the building trudged through the slush for the school bus stop, the loud sound of guitar and drums blasted through the second floor window, left open, making the children stop in their tracks, distracted with the unfamiliar music.

The stereo sitting on the counter in a small kitchen was set to fill the entire apartment with old-school rock, so that the temporary resident of the apartment, who was finishing her morning routine in the bathroom, could sing along. Stephanie was belting out the lyrics of Joan Jett's I Love Rock and Roll while trying to apply a second coat of mascara to her lashes. Surprisingly enough, dancing in front of the mirror didn't help the task at hand, and neither did waving the brush in the air After a solo of air guitar, she finally finished her make-up, and started dressing. She was halfway through buttoning her white shirt when she heard an unfamiliar knock of the door.

Steph froze, hands in air. She rarely got visitors, and even more rarely unexpected ones. A thousand questions ran through her mind. Who was it? Should she worry? Should she call Mary? Moving as stealthy as she could manage, she made her way to the door and looked through the peep hole. At the sight of the tall lanky man standing outside, she felt her body relax. Marshall. Surely one of his surprise visits Mary had told her about.

"Hi Marshall," she greeted him, opening the door.

"Stephanie." He nodded, a small smile tipping up the corner of his lips. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Yes, sure. Sorry. My mom would kill me for not inviting you in before. Come in. You want some coffee?"

"Only if you have it already made."

Stephanie smiled and headed for the kitchen counter where a coffee machine was standing proud, its carafe filled with her favorite blend.

"I can't survive without caffeine. So, if I'm home, coffee's ready. Cream? Sugar?"

"Black. Thanks, Steph." Marshall looked around the flat, taking in the organised mess that was Steph's signature. Chinese take away remains were still on the kitchen counter, and papers were scathered all across the couch.

She pulled two mugs from the cabinet above the sink, humming to the next song that came on before she lowered the volume, wondering what Marshall was doing at her apartment.

Stephanie set the mugs on the table, and sat down, facing the serious WitSec Inspector. She decided to skkip the small talk, wanting - no, needing - to know right away if something had gone bad – or very bad.

"What's wrong, Marshall? Should I start packing?"

He sighed, before taking a sip of his coffee."I don't know. Maybe. You tell me. What's your relationship with Carlos Manoso?"

The air stilled. At the mention of Ranger's name, Steph's heart started pounding a little quicker, a little harder too. Did something happen to him? Was he on his way to come and take her back to New Jersey? Would she have to leave again, and settle in another city?

"Why do you want to talk about Ranger?" Stephanie asked, trying to mask her surprise at Marshall's request. She picked up her coffee mug and sipped, carefully studying the man in front of her.

"I saw him listed as one of your employers, and I'd like to know a bit more about him, that's all. You don't strike me as a person who'd work for a security company." Marshall kept his tone light and his face blank, giving her no hint about what he was really looking for.

"Because I'm just the kind of person who'd work as a Bond Enforcement Agent?"

"Touche." A chuckle escaped from Marshall. " But I've seen your capture record. So I know you were very good at it. So, this… Ranger?"

There was something about the way he was asking that made Stephanie wonder what Marshall was really after. There was a touch of disdain in his tone that she wouldn't have noticed if hearing Ranger's name hadn't put her on guard. She decided that keeping her personal relationship with Ranger wasn't something she was willing to share with the marshal.

"I'm listed under entertainment in RangeMan's budget."

"What?" Marshall's eyes widened, as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. What the hell did she mean by that? What kind of entertainment? He'd known Manoso was a bastard, but this was low even for him. Marshall didn't bother hiding his shock. His expression was blatantly incredulous.

"Yes, because I blow things up, which tends to make the guys laugh." She rose from her chair , and turned away to close the opened windows.

Years of partnership with Mary Shannon had taught Marshall Mann one thing: to never spit your morning coffee on a freshly ironed shirt. Oh, Mary had tried – and even succeeded a few times -– to make him spill, but today, Marshall was thankful for her training, which spared his blue outfit.

Stephanie caught the bemused expression on his face, and faint blush creeping up his neck. She burst out laughing, realizing the unintentional double entendre of her words.

"I worked for RangeMan as an analyst. I did background checks and skip tracing for the guys. And as for the blowing things up, I was talking about the number of my cars that have gone to their maker while in my possession."

"Jeez, Steph. I'm sorry … It's just that… I shouldn't have assumed… "

"No harm done. I didn't realize how I sounded… why do you want to know?"

Marshall took the last sip of his coffee, choosing his words carefully. "I'll tell you in a bit. But we have to go to the office first. I have to talk to Stan and Mary."

"About Ranger?"

The marshal sighed before pushing from the table and heading to the door. He didn't turn to look at Stephanie when he spoke quietly.

"Among other things."


End file.
